Free Texas Takedown by Barb Han Page A

her had been a crushing blow.
    She stuffed the thought down deep as she eased down the hallway toward Dylan’s room. She’d have to pass his daughter’s room to get there, and a coil tightened in her belly with each forward step.
    The door decorated with the name Maribel was open, waiting.
    As Samantha passed by, something dark and big caught her attention. Her eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, but she could see clearly enough to realize it was Dylan.
    There he was, this big hulk of a man who had fallen asleep sitting on the floor of his daughter’s room, leaning against the wall, holding on to a stuffed rabbit that was no doubt his daughter’s favorite.
    His head was slouched forward; he almost looked as if he was crying or praying. If she left him there like that, his neck would hurt in the morning. The least she could do was help him into a more comfortable position.
    Samantha tiptoed inside and tried to ease the furry animal out of his hands.
    In the next second, she was splayed out on her back and he was spread over top of her with a sharp object to her throat, his weight pressing her into the bamboo floor.
    She’d scarcely seen the glimmer of metal before it was against her bare skin.
    â€œStop. It’s me.” She stared into dead eyes, a permanent sneer fixed on his face. Then it occurred to her. He was still asleep. One wrong move and he’d slit her throat before he woke. She kept her body very still. “Dylan. It’s Samantha. Wake up. Please.”
    He snapped his head from side to side and then focused on her. “Dammit. That’s a good way to get yourself killed.”
    He shifted his weight onto his right side and his groin pressed against her naked thigh. A volt of electricity trilled through her. She didn’t want to feel that certain pull between them that made her remember that he smelled spicy and warm and windswept, and yet she couldn’t deny its presence.
    The anger and adrenaline coursed through her, igniting the sexual chemistry between them into passion and fire. He dipped his head and stopped when his lips barely touched hers.
    Was he waiting for a sign that she wanted this to happen, too?
    The knife hit the floor and she could hear it being pushed away, sliding across the bamboo.
    â€œSamantha?” When he spoke, his lips brushed against hers and she could feel his breath, still minty from toothpaste.
    â€œYes” was all she could manage with him this close, with his body flush with hers and the material of his cargo pants against her thighs. That strong chest she’d been holding on to earlier moved up and down faster now, matching the rapid pace of her pulse.
    â€œI’ve been thinking a lot about that kiss yesterday.”
    A dozen thoughts rushed her mind. She’d been thinking about it, too. More than she knew was good for her. She didn’t want to like Dylan as more than a friend. Not now. Maybe never. This was all too complicated.
    His soft lips pressed down on hers. Her hands came up and circled around his neck. He tasted so good.
    He was propped up on one elbow and his free hand started roaming as he deepened the kiss. He was touching, feeling, connecting, and all she could think was
more
.
    And then it dawned on her.
    He was searching for comfort. It could have been any woman underneath him right then. The two of them were friends. Period.
    She broke the kiss and slid out from underneath him. He didn’t immediately move, as though he needed a few seconds to process her actions.
    â€œI was out of line there.”
    â€œNo. I wanted it to happen, too. But that’s not good for either one of us.” She started to say
right now
but stopped herself. The truth was there might never be a right time for the two of them, and she had no intention of confusing a friendship for something else again.
    â€œYou’re right.” Those two words stung. Had she been hoping he’d argue?
    â€œWon’t